My Dearest Friend
by Nyarwhall
Summary: (One shot) Dick is on his deathbed, and thinks back to the time he spent with Oliver.


Dying alone; it hardly surprised Dick, but still he couldn't help but feel some regret to it. If it had been his choice, he would have wished to see Oliver one last time. Oliver- who Dick had found to consume many of his thoughts ever since had left. A small smile crept onto the ill young orphan's face as he thought of Oliver, safe and sound with a loving family of his own; he had heard word of Oliver's newfound fortune throughout the workhouse gossip, and hoped with all his little heart that it was true.

Dick's long blond hair hung in front of his eyes, and always fell back into it's place no matter how often he brushed it away. It was funny, he thought, how he didn't feel much of a fever, or cough at this point, he just felt so very tired. He knew he was going to die, that much he was sure of. He knew that if he dozed off, he wasn't going to wake up, and honestly, he didn't mind it didn't scare him too much. He had come to terms with it a long time ago, but he was trying his best to stay awake for as long as he could, to reminisce before he lost the opportunity to. He searched his head for happy thoughts, and found his first day being brought to the workhouse fresh in his mind, being far too young at the time to remember much before that;

_Tears welled up at the corners of the small boy's eyes, as he was pulled into the damp place. There was no chance for him to say farewell to the life he had had before, and no way for him to become acquainted with the one he had been just then thrust into. He went through the rest of that day in a bit of a daze, feeling rather unwilling to follow orders, and making the situation much harder on himself. By the end of the day, he was cold, scared, and a fair deal bruised up. He sat up in his bed, unable to keep away the tears he had been holding back the whole day. So caught up in his thoughts, his face hidden in his hands, he didn't notice another child climb onto his bed._

"_You'll get used to it all." The boy said softly, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder. Dick looked up to see a young boy a few years his senior, with sandy brown hair, smiling softly at him._

"_I don't think I will... It's so very awful here." Dick replied, sniffling. "How long have you been here for?"_

"_As long as I can remember." He said, holding his other hand out, "My name's Oliver Twist."_

_Dick took the outstretched hand and squeezed it as tightly as he could manage. "I'm Dick..."_

"_Well Dick," Oliver moved to sit closer to him, "Would you like me to stay with you for now on, teach you how to get along around here?"_

_Dick nodded happily and leaned against the older boy, eventually falling fast asleep. Oliver didn't leave that bed for the rest of the night._

Oh how Dick wished that Oliver could be at his bedside now, to hold his hand and comfort him, but he knew those were selfish thoughts. Oliver was happy now, and Dick didn't want to concern him. If only he had known how concerned Oliver was for him, he might have rested a bit easier. His thoughts came back to him, and he remembered once again his time spent with his friend,

"_Oliver, what's happened to you?" Dick said in concern, following his playmate down the dark hallway. Oliver looked down, hiding his face and walking faster._

"_I was worried about you since Mister Bumble pulled you away at dinnertime; it was very brave of you to go ask for more food." Dick continued, tugging at Oliver's sleeve._

"_I'm in a lot of trouble, my dear Dick." Oliver said, turning to face the other. His face was bruised, and his nose was bleeding, and his eyes were red from crying. Dick looked over him, before stopping, and sitting him down._

"_Here," Dick sat down next to him and began to wipe Oliver's tears away with the sleeve of his shirt, and then began to dab the cuts gently. The fabric was rough against his skin, but Oliver greatly appreciated the thought._

"_Thank you Dick." He said, pulling a small smile for the benefit of his friend. Oliver pulled Dick into a tight hug and sighed softly, "I'll see you again in a little while, good night." Oliver looked down at Dick for a few moments, before walking off._

Dick hadn't really seen much of Oliver after that event, now that he thought about it. He had worried so very much, and asked after him often, always receiving a negative response. It wasn't until Oliver had ran away from the coffin maker's that Dick got to talk to him again.

Dick wondered if people would remember him once he was gone; he worried that even Oliver would forget him, and no one would ever mention his name again. He quickly shook his head; That wouldn't happen. He reached for a scrap of paper and a dull pencil that sat near his bed. He had been wanting to write a note to Oliver for the longest time, but he hardly knew how to write. He had been trying his hardest to learn over the past few months, so he decided it was time to put his efforts to work. He wrote slowly, mouthing out the sounds as he got them down on the paper.

FOR OLiVEr. MY DEAriST FriEИD. GOODbYE

-DiCK

Dick let the pencil drop to the floor and admired his writing. He hoped the note would get to Oliver. He clutched the paper tightly in his hand, and settled back into his bed, smiling. He didn't have anything else to think about, so he went back to his memories, slowly closing his eyes and letting out a peaceful sigh.

_Poor Dick was dead._


End file.
